Realization
by museumheist
Summary: He needs to make sure she realizes something, whether she wants to or not. The post Aftershock/Things Change, Terra and Robin conversation we never got to see. Not romance. UPDATED: now a two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Realization  
**Rating:** T for some mature situations, though it could probably pass for K+. It does get a little dark, though.  
**Word Count:** 2873 (not including notes, of course)  
**Inspirations:** None, really. Just sort of an out-of-the-blue idea. If you stretched… dA, maybe.  
**Influences:** DBAinsw's _Twisted Love: Tough Love_. Go read that once you're done with this – it's listed in my favorites.

**Notes:** Okay, so, I was not planning on writing this one at all. Funny how the things I end up finishing are ideas that just sort of hit me all at once… there was literally no planning for this one, just spur of the moment words coming up as I went.

I'm really pleased with how this came out – I don't remember hitting any rough spots, even though I was interrupted. I did get this down in the span of a few hours, so… yay? But yeah. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

* * *

He really had no idea why he was doing this. Well, he did, but explaining it was easier said than done. There was just this… strange compulsion; no matter what reasoning he used against it, he simply couldn't deny that this was something he had to do, or he would never forget it for as long as he lived. Put simply: he needed some sort of closure. A resolution. _Something_. He couldn't know what had happened to her and just pretend it didn't matter, pretend it wasn't directly relevant to his own life and past experiences.

And he had a few things to say to her on the subject that simply wouldn't leave him alone.

So, despite all of his inhibitions and doubts, he ventured to Murakami High School that afternoon, watching her leave with the crowd of her classmates as the final bell rang. He wasn't going to approach her now, of course. His appearance would stir up nothing but trouble, and it would be all too easy for her to slip into the throng of people if he attempted to talk to her.

Thus, he waited. Her walk home wasn't the time, either – her friends lived in the same neighborhood, it seemed. He wouldn't be able to get her alone, not now. Worry seeped into him as she stepped inside the house he could only assume was her home. For a moment, he wondered just what her story was: amnesia? Bad past?

Of course, that was taking into consideration that she _did_ remember, and was just acting. Truth be told, he hadn't considered what he would do if she was indeed an innocent civilian with no part in any of this, or if she didn't remember anything…

Well, he wouldn't think about it. He'd cross that bridge when (and if) he came to it.

Which left him at square one. He couldn't just stakeout all night – he was already feeling guilty for being away from the team as it was. With a sigh, he realized he had only one option: to wait some more, and hope she liked moonlit walks.

Robin wasn't sure if she did this every night, or if he was just incredibly lucky, because she did indeed step outside the house as the sun was setting. She was clad in a simple gray t-shirt and jean shorts, along with a pair of hiking boots not unlike the ones he knew her to wear during her time with the Titans. It also struck him just how much more she looked like _Terra _now – the schoolgirl look just hadn't meshed with his image of her. But though something in her posture looked more relaxed, he couldn't help but notice how tense she was. He observed her wariness with interest, wondering why she was so apprehensive; it wasn't a bad neighborhood she was in, after all.

Or maybe she was just expecting something. Robin knew that after close encounters with Slade, expecting the unexpected – or downright paranoia – was practically second nature. And, of course, she wasn't entirely without reason: she had a determined Boy Wonder on her tail, after all. Reassuring himself he was _not_ stalking her, he followed her soundlessly, going from rooftop to rooftop, remaining just behind her, his barely-used sneakers just barely squeaking as he moved.

It wasn't until a few blocks later that Robin realized where they were headed. His mouth formed into a hard line when he saw the block that had been slated for demolition months ago. The one containing the old library. As Robin continued his rooftop route, he could begin to see the mark of Scath that was still burned into the landscape. What was Terra doing coming here? She couldn't know about the entire ordeal with Trigon, could she? As far as they knew, she had still been a statue at the time. As he followed her into the area, he couldn't help but shudder. The feeling of downright spookiness and eerie desolation hadn't faded over time, that was for sure.

It didn't appear she was aware of what had occurred here. She passed the library without a second glance, instead continuing forward until she reached an old apartment complex. Without pausing, she walked through the door-less entrance, leaving Robin to wonder just what she was doing. When sharp footsteps broke the eerie silence, he assumed she was ascending the stairs. He debated whether or not he should follow her.

Curiosity won out. He descended from the roof of the building he was currently on, making he sure he landed quietly. Then, ensuring she wouldn't see him somehow, he followed her inside. He took much greater care going up than she had – his footfalls were light and barely audible.

Somehow, he knew where she was headed: the rooftop.

The threshold leading outside was also lacking a door, so Robin felt the breeze as he ascended. As he stood on the threshold, he took in the area. As expected, it was dirty and decrepit space. Yet, it looked… lived in, somehow. Soda cans, banana peels, and footprints in the layer of dirt littered the ground. Walls came up to about his knee along the edge of the building, and along the one just opposite him he could see a multitude of items: a pair of shattered goggles, what looked like strips of white tape topped with a familiar orange and black insignia, the remnants of… something (a box of some sort? there were mirror shards mixed in the pile), her old backpack and sleeping bag, and what he took to be her old clothes: a black cropped shirt, yellow shorts, and gloves. That particular pile was topped with a small, disk-shaped object: the cover of what used to be a Titans communicator.

All of this he took in within the span of a few moments, before he finally turned to the left, where a familiar figure was standing, looking out at the sunset, the last few rays of light finally beginning to disappear at this point. It was clear she hadn't sensed him. For a fleeting moment, Robin wondered just what he was going to say to her. Then he decided to just roll with his instincts.

"You know, Terra, what you're doing isn't much better than hiding. You don't think that's cowardly?"

She whirled, her face the epitome of shock. He saw her eyes flicker from him to the piles along the wall, then back to him. Then, seemed to gain her composure, she glared at him. "First of all, my name is _not_ Terra – your crazy friend wouldn't leave me alone, even after I told him…" she rolled her eyes. "And I'm definitely not 'hiding' – I'm just trying to live my life, but you weirdo Titans won't leave me alone." She paused, and he watched her eyes dart to the other wall again. "And before you make any assumptions, that's not my stuff. It's always been here, ever since I found this place." Somehow, she made even that weak excuse sound acceptable.

But Robin knew better.

"Beast Boy wasn't tough enough on you," he said, sighing. "He doesn't understand."

"Understand _what_?" she almost spat.

"What it's like being Slade's apprentice," he answered simply. "It's a scarring experience, isn't it, Terra?"

For a split second, her hard expression faltered, before her composure returned before he even had time to blink. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she muttered.

She had stopped denying her name. It was a baby step, but a step forward all the same.

"I will admit, though," he continued, as though she had never said anything, "you certainly did far worse than I did. Attempting to kill people who were your friends, helping a madman take over an entire city, betrayal, _real_ murder…"

Throughout his list, he saw her expression grow darker and darker. "This Terra chick sounds like a hell of a bad cookie," she stated blandly.

He smirked.

"Yeah, you were." That caught her off guard – she cringed, before replying:

"You're insane."

The smirk didn't drop. "I guess I am, aren't I?" He shook his head. "I don't think I can top you, though. To let a man like Slade control you so completely, make you believe the only people who cared about you would reject you?" He laughed. "You must have been dropped on your head when you were born or something." His expression changed from one of amusement to one of deep thought. "Or was it that you just lacked any sort of faith in yourself? That you believed you were a nothing, that you were only a tool for destruction, and caused nothing but trouble wherever you went? Or maybe – "

"_Stop_," she whispered. "Just, please: stop." Her fists were clenched and her eyes screwed shut, as though she could will all of those thoughts and memories away.

If only it were that simple. Robin had done that and more, but his experience wasn't something easily rid of. He could only imagine what sort of anguish Terra faced every day.

"No, Terra," a part of him wanted to stop – to spare this girl from any more pain, because it was clear that was all she wanted, "I can't. I didn't come here to unload to you everything you did wrong."

"Then why did you come?" she asked, her voice almost trembling. "And my name isn't Terra."

He smiled sadly at her weak denial. "I came to make sure you realized something."

"And what's that?"

He shrugged. "That's up to you." His smile faded, and when Terra looked at his face again, it was a hardened, blank mask. He drew himself up and out, making sure no sympathy showed through, that she could see no mercy.

"How did it feel, Terra, when the realization of just _what_ you had done hit you?" he asked, his tone ice cold. He could almost _see_ her repressing a shudder.

A part of him was disgusted at what he was doing: intentionally intimidating her, trying to use her fear to make her come clean. Another part (and he had a suspicion just whom that part originated from) urged him on.

"What did you feel when you realized you had taken Beast Boy's heart and stomped all over it?"

He could see her struggling. Her face was blank, but he could see her cracking at the edges. He knew those cracks – he fought to keep them sealed every day.

"Did you feel sick? Twisted?" he pushed on. "Did it feel like _nothing _would _ever _make up for every single mistake you made?"

When she looked back down at her feet, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists, Robin took a step forward. "Learning you've been tricked and deceived by a sadistic manipulator you thought was your mentor… it broke you, didn't it?"

And just like that, she shattered. She couldn't patch the cracks quickly enough, and he could only watch as she broke all over again in front of him, reliving everything in the span of a few moments. "_Please_," she whispered, biting her lip and turning away from his earnest expression. "_Stop_. Robin, I can't – "

By now, all Robin wanted to do was reach out to her like he wanted, but he swallowed the desire, telling himself he was almost there. "Can't what?" he asked harshly.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, her hands shooting to her hair and clutching at her scalp. "God, Robin, I don't know what to do anymore!" She fell to her knees in front of him, her hands falling to the ground she looked at so intently now. "What do you want me to do?" her voice was just above a whisper.

He bent with her, bending so he was looking up into her blue eyes with his masked ones. It was with relief he spoke softly now: "I want you to realize that even though you've done terrible things, you are _not_ irredeemable. I wasn't."

"Like _you've_ ever needed redeeming," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself, as though that would somehow keep all of her problems at bay.

He frowned and grasped at them, pulling until they came away from her body and his hands rested around her wrists. "You have no idea…" he murmured, looking at where his hands ended and her arms began. "You forget I was Slade's apprentice once, too."

"That was different," she protested.

"It was," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm totally without blame. I was stupid, Terra. If I had more faith in the people who cared about me, if I didn't insist on doing everything myself and just _trusted them_…" He looked up at the sky for a moment. "Things wouldn't have turned out the way they did." He returned his gaze to her to see her sad expression facing him. "Now I have to live with it."

He swallowed before releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "I just wish you didn't make the same mistake I did, Terra: losing faith in us. We never would have rejected you." Finally releasing her hands, he smiled, though it wasn't very happy. "I don't even _have_ powers. You think we were going to turn you away just because you needed some practice?"

She clasped her hands in her lap, averting her eyes from his. "He made it so _believable_, Robin. I couldn't _not_ listen to him. It just seemed right, and then when you said what you did that first time you offered me a spot on the team… I didn't know what to do."

Robin sighed. "I suppose I am partly to blame in all of this; if I hadn't said anything – "

Terra shook her head fiercely, suddenly grasping his wrist. He looked up in surprise, his eyebrows raised. "No, Robin. It was never your fault. I should have trusted Beast Boy when he said he hadn't told you. It was like you said: my faithlessness was what caused this entire mess."

He smiled. "Well, that's my job done," when he saw her puzzled expression, he went on. "You learned something."

"You were planning on this all along, weren't you?" she smiled softly, letting go of him.

He shrugged. "You could have learned any number of things, Terra. You could have learned I'm a relentless jerk – "

" – I wouldn't go that far – "

" – that Slade was a bastard – "

" – realized that awhile ago – "

" – or… that it was your own shortcomings that started all of this."

There was silence for a moment as Terra thought about this. "I think… I _did_ know that." She sighed. "I just didn't want to face it."

"There's… one more thing you have to face," he started, almost regretful. "You _are_ running from it all by doing this, Terra."

"How can I face this Robin?" she murmured, shaking her head. "What do I have to do? I know what I did was horrible, and now I have to live with it for the rest of my life…"

"Yes, you do," he said. "But that doesn't mean you can't get closure. It doesn't mean you have to let it consume who you are and rule your life. You can move on."

Terra looked up at him, tears in her eyes he wasn't expecting. "I know, Robin, but…" she bit her lip. "_I just don't want to be hurt again_. I can't be a hero, I'm too afraid of someone coming and ripping it all out from under me, or someone using me, or – "

"Terra." She stopped. "You can't expect to go through life and not be hurt, even if you continue on the road you're on now. So why not make the most of it? You can _help_ people, Terra."

She shook her head. "I don't deserve to be called a hero, Robin."

He shrugged. "I know five people who would disagree with that – myself included."

"And I know hundreds who _would_ agree," she shot back.

He smiled. "So?" he asked, and she looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Prove them wrong. I've done it on more than one occasion – it's a pretty good feeling." He saw a corner of her mouth quirk upward, and that was the only cue he needed to continue. "You can still be a hero, Terra. I am." He stood and extended a hand down to her.

Terra held his eyes for a long time. Blue looking into – though she didn't know it – blue. After several moments, she looked down and sighed. "I'm sorry, Robin…" she murmured; he almost couldn't hear her. "But I can't make this decision. Not now." She denied Robin's offered hand and rose to her feet on her own.

Now it was his turn to look at her. Finally, he nodded. "I understand," he responded. "Just promise me you'll at least think about it."

"Promise." She nodded and turned, beginning to walk away. He was turning around himself when she spoke again. "Robin?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her looking at him with a small smile. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He smiled and nodded. "What else would a good friend do?"

He turned again before he could see her reaction.

* * *

And, of course, I have to end it on a light(er) note. =P One of these days I'm going to write a full-blown angst with no happy ending whatsoever… But a quick explanation regarding the roof: in the episode Terra, we saw her running out of the tower with her pack. Later, when Slade's watching her, she has no pack. She has to have dropped it off _somewhere_. And what would she have done with her second outfit with the Titans? The suit she had when she was with Slade? So, I gave her a place to crash in between her appearances. And the abandoned area of Jump suited my purposes. So yeah.

Okay, sorry to bore you, but I have more to say on this. Feel free to skip this in favor of hitting the review button. ;D

This was probably an end product of looking for Rob/Terra stuff on dA for a few hours. There wasn't much to find (it was rather discouraging, really), but I think it still had some effect on my head, seeing as I got the idea for this a few hours later. I wanted to do a Rob/Terra oneshot (not necessarily romance, even if it could be seen as such), and then I thought: "Well, gee, we never _did_ see a post-Aftershock conversation between Terra and Robin, even though they would have had _plenty_ to talk about. So, this is my take on how it could have gone.

The first bit where Robin's being tough on her was the part influenced by DBAinsw's _Tough Love_. This little ficlet pales in comparison to that story, but I like it well enough anyhow. I think I'm going to end up expanding this, if I ever get around to it. Probably from Terra's POV. That's pretty much it… a review or two would be nice.


	2. Chapter 2

She was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly she wondered just _how_ she was supposed to find him.

Well, there was always Titans Tower, of course, but it wasn't like her floating over wouldn't call attention. She'd rather not cause that kind of stir. So what did that leave?

In the end, she figured that the rooftop was her best bet. He didn't show up the first day, or the second, or the days after that, but the peace of the undisturbed building, surrounded by all of her old belongings oddly relaxed her. Normally, it only made her uneasy with all the reminders and forced her to linger on memories she'd rather bury. Now, it seemed to focus her thoughts, allowing her to better think about everything he said and what he had offered her.

Five days later found her still waiting at the top – it wasn't like she had to convince herself he would come back, she just _knew_. Where else would he go for his answer? Robin would return eventually, and, in the meantime, she was left to her own devices.

She should have jumped at the chance to get that communicator back. She had lost her chance the first time by running away in fear of rejection, and it suddenly struck her that much of her pain could have avoided had she simply stuck around to let Beast Boy and Robin explain. Would she really have had to deal with being Slade's apprentice? Or was that always set in stone for her?

She shook her head, as though it could rid her mind of the less-than-pleasant thoughts. Of course, she had completely ruined the second time she was offered the communicator by betraying the entire team.

So she was left with more questions than ever. Why was Robin making such an effort to get her back on the team after everything she had done? Even after turning herself to stone and presumably killing Slade (she realized she didn't even know if he _was_ dead or not), that didn't make up for her sins. She had attempted to _murder_ them, destroyed their home, broken Beast Boy's heart… Terra felt a bitter taste come into her mouth. Normally, she didn't spit, but today she had to act on the urge – anything to get this sickeningly familiar taste (copper and salt, she noted) out of her mouth.

"I knew you burped like a guy, but I didn't know you could _spit_, too."

She started, whirling around to see the relaxed figure of Robin leaning against the wall in the threshold of the staircase. He was looking at her curiously, as though she had done something particularly interesting (well, according to him, she had). Once her heart had stopped hammering, she shrugged, a slight smile making its way onto her features. "Yeah, well, with all the dirt I work with, you pick the habit up…"

"I'm sure," he responded, smiling as well. He pushed off the doorframe and made his way over to her, looking out over the edge of the building. "Nice day," he remarked after a moment.

Terra arched a brow – it was overcast. "Really now?" she asked, snorting. "Your opinion of the term 'nice day' concerns me, then."

She could have sworn he rolled his eyes under the mask before bumping her shoulder with his.

For a moment, she was struck with the realization that she had never seen Robin act like this. So relaxed, at ease… she had always known Robin as the stiff, unyielding leader. It must be quite something for him to act this way around _her _of all people. But, then, they had something in common no one else did. Shared horrors brought people together, Terra noted. She and Robin were no different.

That didn't stop her from holding these moments with him a little closer to her heart.

"I knew I was right in guessing you'd come back here."

"Well, I figured if there was a place to find you, it'd be here."

"Ever the detective," she remarked.

His face fell slightly. "Not always…" he said quietly. "There were always some things I could never figure out – not in time. And sometimes knowing things only makes the situation worse." Terra winced. He didn't have to say what he was referring to; it hung between them, blaringly obvious.

To say the silence was tense would be a gross understatement.

Unable to bear it any longer, she broke the quiet, looking up at his downturned face. "You still have more to say," her voice, now assertive and sure, made him look up at her now intent expression. "C'mon, let's hear it," she continued, plopping herself down on the ledge, patting the space next to her and swinging her legs.

She felt him pause, then join her.

"It isn't fun stuff," he began.

She shrugged – not like she had expected anything less. "Can't be too much worse than last night."

"I guess…" he sighed, running a hand through his hair he thought. "Why?" he looked at her intently, and he didn't have to elaborate on his question.

She frowned. "You explained pretty well last night, actually."

He turned away. "I guess I did, didn't I?" he asked no one in particular. "I mean, I know why."

"That much is obvious."

He smirked for just a moment. "I just can't understand why someone would make all the same mistakes I did…"

She looked up at the sky, as though all the answers would simply fall and hit her. "For one thing," she started, sighing heavily, "I wasn't aware of your apprentice situation until I was in too deep. Not that that's an excuse," she muttered bitterly, "but still. I didn't have that to learn from. And for another thing… you made far less mistakes than I did." She shook her head. "I mean, sure, we both had trust issues. We both did some underhanded things to people who were supposed to be our friends, but when it came down to it…" she looked at him when she paused. "I joined Slade of my free will. You did it because the alternative was losing the Titans."

After a moment, she realized the tables had been turned: she was reassuring him, rather than the other way around.

"It doesn't make my mistakes any less horrible…" he said lamely, letting the thought trail off.

"No," she agreed, and she clarified when he started and looked at her oddly: "But it certainly makes my mistakes look that much worse. We were in a similar situation, but on entirely different circumstances. Comparing yours to mine would be like comparing Mumbo to Slade or something."

He stared at her for a long while. "It doesn't mean you can't make up for it like I did – it just means it'll take a little longer."

She laughed dryly. "What if I'm irredeemable, Robin? What then?"

To her surprise, he smiled wanly and withdrew that fateful yellow and black communicator from his belt, considering the object as he said: "Well, then…" his smile widened and he looked at her. "I suppose you have nothing to lose, do you?"

She arched her brows. "Robin, I have the chance to live a normal life – "

"Which you're making difficult by dwelling on the past," he cut off.

She frowned. "I'll get over it eventually."

"Do you really believe that you can just walk away from all of this?" he asked.

She didn't answer, instead averting her eyes from his searching gaze. Finally, she replied: "I _want_ to believe I can."

Robin shook his head. "You know as well as I do that it won't be enough."

"Why not?" she exclaimed, almost angrily. "Why can't it be, Robin? Why can't I have a normal life?"

She glared at him, and he seemed to think for a moment. "I guess…" he began slowly, looking back out to the landscape in front of them, "it's for the same reasons I chose to be a hero _despite_ my lack of powers. We can't help who we are."

"I'm not a hero, Robin," she muttered darkly.

"Stop saying that," he said sharply, making her turn back to him, surprised. "You keep saying that, but you don't realize what a _lie_ it is. Someone who realizes her mistakes, overcomes someone _literally_ controlling their every move through sheer willpower, saves an entire city by turning herself to _stone_…" He shook his head. "How can she be anything but a hero?"

"I only did those things after nearly _killing_ you all!" she protested. "Those things I did… they're not enough to make up for everything I did. Nothing I do will ever be _enough_."

For a long moment, Robin said nothing. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly: "Have you considered that you're not a hero _despite_ your mistakes, but _because _of them, and then proceeding to learn from them?" Terra didn't have a response. Robin continued. "You keep saying you're irredeemable, Terra, but you haven't even tried. You started with your sacrifice – I think you owe it to yourself to finish the job."

"I don't owe _myself_ anything."

Robin frowned. "Then, at the very least, you owe _me_. You owe the team, you owe the city – "

"Are you _guilt-tripping me_?"

His face was blank. "I suppose you could say that, but you didn't let me finish. If you refuse to do this for yourself, do it for the people you say you've wronged. For the city, the team… for Beast Boy, if nothing else."

Her breath caught. "I – I –"

Again, Robin extended the communicator. "For _me_?"

Terra was aghast at just how much this meant to him. How much _she _meant to him. Had anyone – save Beast Boy and maybe Starfire – ever cared this deeply for her? And she didn't even deserve it…

But, God, she wanted to. She looked back and forth between Robin's masked eyes and the communicator, still speechless. "It – I…" she took a deep breath. "My agreement means that much to you?"

He nodded somberly. "More than you know," he said softly.

The silence stretched in that impossibly long moment, and Terra realized she had run out of arguments, run out of excuses and everything else. Now all that was left was her answer.

She took a deep breath. "You're sure?" She still couldn't quite believe he was willing to put everything she said - everything she _did_ - behind them like it was nothing.

He smiled warmly, and the sincerity took her breath away. "Positive."

It was then Terra realized that this whole ordeal wasn't just about getting her back on the team. Robin had needed this as much as she had – a confirmation that he wasn't alone, that someone really _truly_ understood just what had happened to him. He wanted to know that someone, _anyone_, had suffered the same pain as he. To most, the thought - that someone wanted another person to have suffered – was not a pleasant one. But to Terra, it made _sense_, because the sense of relief she felt washing through her was caused by exactly that.

She nodded once - almost to herself - never taking her eyes from the device in his hand. Slowly, hesitantly, as though moving too quickly would make it disappear, she reached for it, when suddenly her hand was on top of Robin's, the only thing separating them being the communicator. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze: _it was okay_, it told her. Delicately, almost afraid it would break, she took it and brought it close for inspection.

A breath she didn't know she had been holding was released with a whoosh. It wasn't joy of being offered a position of the team that filled her. It was more the relief of someone, _anyone_, seeing her for who she was, looking past it, digging and digging, and never giving up until she realized something very important: someone _cared_.

Before she could convince herself out of it, she threw herself at Robin and wrapped her arms around him in the tightest hug she could manage. "_Thank you_," she said breathlessly.

She could tell she had surprised him, but after a second or two, he relaxed and returned the embrace, rubbing her back soothingly. "Just don't forget to thank yourself," he replied.

* * *

… aaaaaand that's all she wrote! Seriously. No more expansion. I got done what I wanted to, and I'm pretty damn pleased with it. I owe it to my awesome reviewers, notably DivineRedFire for really making me consider this second chapter and 100 Silver Wings for reviewing just about everything I put up. This is for you. ^^

I just hope it wasn't too cheesy/preachy/sappy/whatever...


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